


Each Life Touches so Many (Or Leaves an Awful Big Hole)

by TimTheToaster (tabletoptime)



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, So a lot, but mostly - Freeform, dimension hopping, very brief allusions to vampire politics, who doesn't want to punch themselves in the face sometimes?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabletoptime/pseuds/TimTheToaster
Summary: The impostor’s eyes locked with his, and Adrian felt pinned.“Coward,” he hissed. “Was it fear of your father or fear of being alone that had you cast aside your mother’s principles?”In which sometimes you do pick blood over principles, and the Infinite Corridor is a toy that you can't stop me from playing with.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	Each Life Touches so Many (Or Leaves an Awful Big Hole)

It had taken a number of weeks, but finally Adrian’s father’s court was fully assembled. Carmilla had certainly taken her time arriving, needing to both make an entrance and have the last word in one blow. It would be an impressive manipulation were Adrian not already so fed up with petty power plays from everyone else that he found himself thoroughly unamused.

He fully expected her to start trying to arrange things to whatever agenda had kept her so long by the next morning.

Alas, no matter how big a headache the jabbering gave him, Adrian had promised his father to oversee the court until they had reached a conclusion that could be brought before him. To be honest the only people even trying to be productive were the two Forgemasters. Everyone else seemed to be having some kind of volume based shouting match.

Perhaps he could appeal to Carmilla’s  _ oh so clearly _ travel-worn appearance, both putting her in her place and dismissing the court for the eve-

In a great howling of wind and pink-green light, the air above the hall split apart. Three dark forms fell, wreathed in flickering blue flames that cleared a circle for landing. And land they did, all on their feet and then there were three sets of sharp eyes to the surrounding vampires.

Let it never be said Dracula’s generals were unable to respond to a sudden threat, every head whipping to the intrusion fangs bared and the scarce weapons on hand unsheathed.

The circle of flames roared, forcing everyone back further before settling to a swirl of knee-high tongues that revealed the figures to be a woman in rather non-traditional robes of Speaker-blue with flames perched on her knuckles, a man in black and gold wielding a shortsword and chain-whip, and a third man that was- himself?

The impostor scanned the room with a snarl tugging at his lips-  _ the fangs certainly suggested vampiric heritage _ \- but held his sword rather loosely in hand. Adrian found this less comforting than it may have been with someone else, given his own abilities and the suspicious familiarity of what he could see of the impostor’s blade.

“Castlevania, entrance hall, twenty-three vampires by my count.” The man’s words were terse and in a low growl that, were it not for the nature of the room’s inhabitants, would have kept the words in their circle. There was a pause. “And one dhampir, on the dias.”

How had the man deciphered his nature from such a brief glance?

“They seem to have recently convened, perhaps they have not had the chance to start their war just yet,” the woman spoke in an accent that Adrian couldn’t quite place, gaze flicking from vampire to vampire.

Adrian moved before the impostor could speak, a hollow in his gut opening in time with his mouth. “What is the meaning of this? By what power do you appear in the court of Lord Dracula?”

All three people looked at him, but only one gaze held steady. The impostor even  _ spoke _ in Adrian’s voice. “By the combined powers of an aggressive inter-dimensional portal and our magician. I can assure you, it was not deliberate.”

“As if anyone would  _ want _ to fall in front of a flock of pompous bloodsuckers,” snorted the man, light words not in line with the weight of the whip-head swinging like a pendulum at his side. A sharp side-eye from the impostor had his teeth clicking together, and the twitch caught lamplight on the golden stitching at his breast; a  _ Belmont _ . In  _ his _ castle.

Adrian wasn’t the only one who noticed, a hiss rippling through the court. Carmilla stepped forward, always taking advantage of even the most ludicrous of situations. “A leashed hunter from an extinct family, and a trained combat magician from a pacifist people? And who or what, exactly, are you to have turned such stubborn humans to your service? Or have you merely found runts and cast-offs?”

As much as he wanted to mistrust her on the principle of her inevitable duplicity, it was certainly useful that Carmilla was in the habit of directness and asking the questions everyone wanted the answers to. 

The impostor looked away from Adrian, and he fought not to let the relief of the gaze’s loss show on his face. It didn’t last long. “I am Alucard of Wallachia, and my  _ companions _ are Speaker Sypha Belnades and Trevor Belmont, of the House of Belmont.”

Carmilla laughed. “You claim the title of our master’s son? Clearly your boldness knows no bounds. Tell me though, how did you muzzle a  _ Belmont _ of all things?”

“I am more concerned with the magician powerful enough to tangle with some kind of portal that can bypass Lord Dracula’s defenses,” Isaac spoke for the first time, dagger in hand and footsteps ear-silent.

“What we have done is not replicable. The Corridor will attempt to consume us again sometime in the next few days. We will not be here for long, but certainly long enough to end your genocidal campaign.” The light-bursts on the woman- Sypha’s hands flared with her words, and the circle of fire rolled outwards another foot.

Isaac’s lip curled as if he too had fangs to show. “Our campaign is to rid the world of a blight upon its surface, that something purer may reign in its place.”

It was, perhaps, not a great idea to be exposing the true nature of Dracula’s intentions so early. There was no way the court would abide by a war that would damn them as surely as humanity. Adrian had hoped for more time to persuade his father away from a total slaughter, had hoped with the destruction of Wallachia perhaps the worst of his rage would be slaked, and the rest of humanity could be simply enslaved. 

“The only blights in this world are the lie that people’s problems and suffering can be ended with the deaths of innocents, and those who would perpetuate it,” Belnades snapped. 

Again, the Belmont quipped like the words burned his tongue. “At least we know which category you fall into. Fucking mass murdering traitor.”

In some misplaced show of solidarity, Hector stepped up beside his fellow Forgemaster. Right into the potential line of fire. “Humans are cruel and stupid and selfish, and they need to be controlled. Why should we be loyal to a race that has done nothing to deserve it?”

Perhaps by some unspoken agreement between the two, night creatures began spilling forth from the shadowed ceiling, the high windows, and the auxiliary chambers. This was rapidly spiraling out of control. Adrian needed to intervene before someone was offended enough to lash out with more than words.

But before he could speak, the impostor released his sword and it swept up to hover over his shoulder. Shit. The two humans hadn’t fallen out of their battle stances since arriving, but now there was a tension running through them like plucked strings in harmony.

“Sypha, two choke-points and division. I’ve got up top and mid-row. Alucard, we have your back.” The Belmont’s words were quick and pointed, the links of his whip uncoiling to curl loosely around the edges of their circle. 

Carmilla raised an eyebrow at the brewing violence, and there was a small but vocal part of Adrian that hoped one of the intruders would hit her. “So quick to abandon dialogue. But really, you should know better than to associate with dogs,  _ Alucard _ . Emerging with bad habits is only natural.”

“If they’re mad enough to pick a fight in the middle of Dracula’s fucking court, then let them. We could all use some action as a break from this bullshit,” Godbrand crowed. Adrian amended his previous thought; he  _ really _ wanted one of the intruders to hit Godbrand. 

So long as no one attacked, this was still workable. The intruders didn’t look inclined to make the first move, and Adrian would personally gut whatever moron escalated this even further. There was no need to risk losing one of the more useful generals or, more importantly, the opportunity for  _ answers _ in what would assuredly be a short but bloody scuffle. Given Adrian’s luck lately, it would be exclusively the vampires he didn’t want to stake himself that the intruders would manage to take out before their inevitable deaths.

It was, of course, at that point that one of the surrounding night creatures strayed too close to the circle of fire and ignited itself.

Theoretically, it shouldn’t have mattered. If its Forgemaster remained resolute and their will never wavered, the night creature would be unable to react and would simply burn. If it had been one of Isaac’s creatures, that may indeed have been how things went. But it wasn’t Isaac’s creature.

It was Hector’s.

The creature shrieked and flailed, lipless snarl opening wide to show its jagged assortment of teeth, and dove at the intruders. Immediately, before it could even fully cross the flames, a streak of silver lashed out and that shining whip-head punched through its throat in a shock of blood and then disappeared back into the circle.

Even  _ that _ may have been salvageable, except the creature’s corpse didn’t simply drop. It swelled in a grotesque bulging of already torn flesh, falling back into a number of its compatriots, and exploding in a burst of fiery viscera. The night creatures  _ not _ blown apart with their companion’s innards howled, and then the rest of Hector’s beasts were moving, and apparently that was cue enough for the hall to descend into chaos.

Creatures attempted to swarm the circle, and were thrown backwards in pieces, on fire, perforated with massive spikes of ice, or some horrifying combination of the three. Explosions followed the path of that damnable whip, tearing holes in what would have otherwise been a solid wave of demons and filling the air with the clinking of chains and the stink of rotten blood. A separate flash of silver danced through the air, leaping from target to target and taking them apart at the joints with the precision of his mother’s scalpel. 

One particularly enterprising guard leaped forward, catching the whip mid-air and pulling on it  _ hard _ , even as his flesh visibly bubbled at the contact. He managed to pull the Belmont out of the flames, which roared higher and hotter as the skirmish carried on, only to catch his shortsword through the neck. 

Vampiric blood hitting the air was the final straw for the rest of the guards and several members of the court, surging forward to tear apart the now isolated hunter.

Adrian took the opportunity to reach out for his sword, left in his room in the apparently arrogant assumption that nothing would happen during today’s council, and commanded it to find its way to his side. He had a feeling he couldn’t afford to be unarmed much longer.

The impostor dove out after the Belmont, blade again in hand, and flickered to his side as he once more hit the ground. Blue flames flared out in a rolling tide as the circle broke and the Speaker darted after her companions, swatting night creatures from the air like so many bugs as she went. They didn’t stay together long, splitting apart as the vampires made contact, only to weave their way back to each other again and again.

Bones crunched and flesh tore, and after far too long a cry that was decidedly human echoed around the hall. Except it was Hector that hit the floor with a thud, from a blow aimed not at him but at a guard who had ducked out of the way. Thankfully, his heart still beat, if at a rather accelerated pace, so at least that wouldn’t need to be explained to Adrian’s father, but it sent his remaining beasts into even more of a frenzy.

A faint scent of human blood suggested that at least one of the intruders had acquired some kind of injury, but Adrian honestly wasn’t sure which, between the blood splattered across them all and the continued fluidity of their movements.

Again, the impostor’s eyes locked with his, and Adrian felt pinned. His impassive face curled into a look of derision and disgust before he lit up in a haze of red-  _ how could he do that?-  _ and came to a halt halfway through a thrust that Adrian side-stepped more on instinct than thought.

“ _ Coward, _ ” he hissed, snapping a kick at Adrian’s knee that forced him onto his backfoot. “Was it fear of your father or fear of being alone that had you cast aside your mother’s principles?”

His sword was close, Adrian just needed to buy himself a little time, but it was difficult to focus on anything other than the sudden spike of anger that pierced his spine at this so-called  _ Alucard’s _ words. As if he knew  _ anything _ about the decisions Adrian had been forced to make in the last month.

“My mother was  _ slaughtered _ for refusing to be ignorant, burned for the  _ heresy _ of healing. Her memory deserves retribution and justice.” He twisted away from another jab and slashed with claws at the retreating hand, only just grazing the skin and leaving the faintest of scratches.

Something in his words enraged Alucard, a spray of bloodied ice flying behind him haloing his head for half of a heartbeat before another exploding corpse shattered it. “Her memory deserves to be respected and remembered for what she was and believed in, not  _ twisted _ into a martyr for a cause she would have hated.”

Finally,  _ finally _ , Adrian’s sword met his palm, and not a moment too soon as he immediately needed to block a strike aimed for his throat. From there the pace of their fight rapidly picked up, and it was eerie the way their steps moved in near-synchronicity. It was like trying to fight a mirror. A mirror that was very determined to kill him.

Every slash was blocked, but there wasn’t a strike Adrian didn’t see coming either. At least, until Alucard suddenly ducked Adrian was forced to dive out of the way of a fireball aimed at his face. Was a night horde and hall full of vampires not enough to occupy that damn Speaker?

Still, Adrian’s reflexes were enough to get his sword up to catch the impostor’s before it could impale him and their blades locked. It was like trying to push against a spring-loaded piston; the more pressure he applied, the more resistance and the surer Adrian was it was going to punch back at him. Neither of them were giving ground, but the ground was giving beneath them in great cracks.

“You know  _ nothing _ of my mother or what she would have wanted,” Adrian snarled through gritted teeth, inches from the impostor’s hauntingly cold eyes. Some distant part of him felt a stab of pity for everyone he had ever glared at.

“Perhaps, but if you think she would approve of this, then neither do you.”

The ache in Adrian’s chest twisted and his arms moved with it, breaking the lock so he could dive for the impostor’s throat, fangs elongating as his heart pounded hotly.

“Enough!”

Dracula emerged from behind the throne, red gaze flicking across the carnage and every frozen vampire still standing, where Isaac’s dagger scraped across the Belmont’s chain wrapped forearm, and the Speaker had a flock of night creatures pierced through with a forest of ice and an ignited palm wrapped around a husk’s neck, before settling on Adrian and the impostor. “What is the meaning of this?”

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! This is not the thing I intended to have ready to post before the end of March but here it is! Sorry to anyone looking for an update on my WIP, but I finished season 3 a few weeks ago and this became a thing I needed to work on.
> 
> Title is a somewhat altered quote from the movie "It's a Wonderful Life" as per a suggestion from someone on a discord server I'm in, so thanks Snow (though I doubt she'll ever see this).
> 
> As is, I'm pretty pleased with it! The combat was fun to write, as was a slightly prissy Adrian, and this trope is a personal fave. With a narrative device like the Infinite Corridor, how could I not? I am but a cartoon watching fool, but I hope people have as much of a good time reading this as I did writing it!!
> 
> Have a good day <3


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